Mary Ellen Macuen, 50, of Worcester was running a bar and raising a daughter when she became addicted to opioids. The self-described dance mom managed to keep it together for a while, until after 20 years of abusing painkillers she couldn't take the lies, stealing and not being able to get out of bed without pills anymore.

After getting arrested and finally committing to treatment at Spectrum Health Systems in Worcester, Ms. Macuen has been clean since June 6, 2009.

Ms. Macuen has gone back to school, earned her associate degree at Quinsigamond Community College, and is studying for her bachelor's degree in urban studies and communication at Worcester State University.

She continues to work full time as a bartender, volunteers in a hunger program, tutors, and works her recovery program at Spectrum Health Systems.

Ms. Macuen was 24 the first time she used opioids, when she was prescribed Vicodin after having her wisdom teeth removed. She couldn't take them because the pills were too large, so her doctor switched her to Percocet.

That initial experience with pills didn't do much for Ms. Macuen.

But then she had another procedure that came with a post-op Percocet prescription.

"I was diagnosed with some skin cancer I had to have removed and was given another prescription and realized, 'Wow, this is what they stole pills for,' " she said.

Getting extra Percocet was never a problem. Ms. Macuen owned a bar and she said dealers were in all the time. She learned of other places to get pills, too.

She said: "There was one doctor I remember they told me to go to. He worked out of a three-decker. You went in, you sat in a waiting room with hundreds of people.

"When you went in, you got your name on a prescription paper. You'd hand him the prescription. He had a mask on, so you never saw what he looked like. He wrote out the prescription and walked out. Wouldn't say a word."

There were other sources for drugs as well.

"There were so many little old ladies out there selling their pills. I'd go to this high-rise. I probably had five ladies over the age of 75 I would buy from. They knew the price, they knew how to sell them. They got them every month. They didn't take them.

"One lady I knew, it would help pay her bills. So there was always that justification, 'Gee, I'm helping out the little old lady by buying her pills so she can get milk and bread this month.'"

Ms. Macuen said she got a prescription from her doctor, too, for seven years, telling him she had headaches.

She recalled that the 85 Percocets she'd get prescribed each month would be gone in two or three days, leaving her to find illicit sources until the next prescription. But she didn't want to risk losing her prescription by pushing the doctor too far by claiming her pills had been lost or stolen.

Ms. Macuen said: "My disease got pretty bad. At one point I was probably doing up to 25 pills a day.

"I think with the Percs, before you got to the point where you took so many, you could still function. I was a functioning addict, but I couldn't get out of bed without them.

"The withdrawal was horrible. In order to get up before noon I'd have to have six or seven pills."

The pills dictated pretty much all aspects of Ms. Macuen's life, including family travel.

"I had to go to a dance competition for a weekend and I'd be away. I had to make sure I'd have enough so when I came home the next day I'd be able to unpack my suitcases," she said. "I remember we took a trip to Florida and I came home two days early because I ran out of pills.

"It's overwhelming. You justify every aspect of them — until you're just to the point where they just run you."

The expense of buying Percocet for $4 to $6 a pill added up quickly, too.

"I was paying double what my mortgage was in pills," she said.

A run-in with the law after she stole money off an employer's credit card forced Ms. Macuen to finally face her addiction.

"I had a daughter. The cost was horrible ... everything about it was horrible ... the constant lying, stealing.

"I worked two jobs (to get the pills). If I knew someone who would have a prescription, I'd go over there and take some out of their cabinets. I would pawn all my jewelry.

"I finally got to the point where I had to make a choice: Either I was going to become an outright thief or stop taking pills.

After Ms. Macuen got arrested, her probation officer told her to clean up or go to jail.

"I was the dance mom. It was embarrassing," she said.

"I came to same-day treatment here (at Spectrum). It was a Thursday morning and I was the very first person here. They open the doors at 5:30 a.m. We got here at 3:30 a.m., got our number and went to Denny's and had a cup of coffee and waited for them to open.

"I went to 90 meetings (Narcotics Anonymous) in 90 days. And that was huge."

Ms. Macuen said her counselor at Spectrum was relentless in pushing her to go back to college and set new goals. She still goes to an NA meeting a week as she works her recovery program.

"In the beginning, I'm not going to say it wasn't hard. You have to meet a whole new group of people, a whole 'nother life," she said. "You've just got to get other priorities. I used to spend that much time looking for pills. You might as well spend that time doing something right."

Ms. Macuen said facing addiction to prescription painkillers was not like most other abused substances because pills are a legitimate — even healthy — part of our culture.

"I think pills are a lot different. I think you can kind of function with them still. They're not frowned upon, they're not looked at as illegal. They're not looked at like, 'Oh you're a drunk or a crackhead,' " she said.

"For me, I would make an excuse: Oh, I can get them from the doctor. It's almost like you try to justify it and make a reason for why it's OK."

And pills are everywhere.

"The hardest thing with the pills… I would drive by a CVS or a Walgreen and see that prescription bottle on that sign. With heroin, you don't see it. With pills, it's like an alcoholic driving by the package store," she said.

Nearly five years into her recovery, Ms. Macuen said her life has turned around.

"I was fortunate enough not to lose my home, not lose my child. Now I can pay my bills, I'm not worried about having my lights shut off. I can face my family. I don't have to lie."

She added: "Now when I have dental work I won't even take an Aleve. Ten years ago I would have been all over it, calling for more."